


Oak and Reed

by onyxshinigami



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-28
Updated: 2016-11-28
Packaged: 2018-09-02 20:55:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,402
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8683033
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/onyxshinigami/pseuds/onyxshinigami
Summary: The Emerald Graves prove a difficult challenge for Inquisitor Leaf Lavellan and his close friends. The journey may shatter his burgeoning relationship with the Iron Bull. It may even destroy him.





	

_You're like a willow_   
_once you were gold_   
_We're made for bending_   
_even beauty gets old_   
_Climb the stairs they're not so steep_   
_bend down the branches_   
_\-- Tom Waits_

 

*** *** ***

 

There wasn’t much left of the elven temple. Everything was grey and broken and smothered in weeds. A broken, weathered statue crumpled at the base of the steps. Another, vine choked and cracked, stretched its wings towards the sunlight that filtered in through the ruined ceiling. Leaf looked around, remembering childhood tales of the Emerald Knights. So much lost to time, war, and the human Chantry.

His people had faced eradication time and time again. Rejecting humanization, they had stubbornly managed to eek out a survivable existence on the fringes of Thedas. Dalish clans varied as wildly. He had encountered clans on his travels that scorned Clan Lavellan for trading freely with humans, dwarves, and qunari. His clan had dedicated time every day to tales and lessons; had nursed and nurtured interest in the shredded history in their youth. Their stories, scraps of memory, were all they had. The Keeper had been a magnificent storyteller; weaving each little tale into a ever growing tapestry that stretched back through time. Leaf remembered sitting at the back of the the group, his knees hugged tightly to his chest, unable to see; only hear. Listening to the Keeper’s voice rise and fall like the tides, whispering on the winds then crashing like thunder; hypnotic and stern, soothing and warning. She spent so much time with the youth when they encountered ruins, revealing the stories hidden in the mosaics; connecting tale to reality. Leaf remembered gazing up at the statues and broken images, overcome by a sense of awe and wonder.

Looking at the magnificent ruin before him, he felt soul weary.

“They sang here. Voices lifting as one. Trilling and chanting. Dirge, lamentation, victory. Celebration, love, death. It was beautiful, once.”

“Solas would love this place,” Leaf bowed his head, turning towards Cole. “We should speak to him when we reconvene at camp. He may wish to see it for himself.”

Cole nodded. His gaze was centered on Leaf.

“This place hurts you. The forgotten.”

“Yes.”

“I will not make you forget.”

“Thank you,” Leaf smiled softly. Reached out a hand to rest gently on Cole’s shoulder. “If you feel anything from these ruins, please let me know. I value your insight more than I can put into words.”

“I can feel that, too.” Cole nodded. He moved away then, heading carefully down stairs strewn with rubble, picking a path for others to follow.

Leaf tried to shake of the ghosts of sadness. He was in a temple laden with history. He should be focused on looking for the stories hidden in these stones, not grieving the passage of time. He stood here with people that he cared for and, he liked to believe, cared for him. He drew in several deep, calming breaths. Listened to Cole’s descent before him, Cassandra’s voice calling out above him; Sera’s voice answering her, farther away on the outer wall.

“Cassandra,” he called up “Cole and I are heading down these stairs.” He sent energy into his staff, causing the hollow sun’s spikes to glow frigid blue. “If we find anything, we’ll call.”

“Understood,” she answered. “Sera has seen no further movement from the forest. No sign of reinforcements from the Red Templars.”

“I trust you to watch our backs, Seeker.” he said with a grin. “Your Maker help any that try and cross you.”

“Watch yourself, Inquisitor,” she replied. “No telling what lies underneath these ruins. Keep an eye out for undead.”

“I’ll scream if I need you.”

“Do that,” she smiled finally. He felt her eyes on his back as he descended into darkness once again.

 

*** *** ***

 

Back at camp, darkness closing in quickly under the thick forest canopy, the members of the Inquisition shared notes over the things they had seen during the day's explorations. Blackwall, Vivienne and Varric had run into several groups of the Freemen of the Dales and had taken appropriate action. The Iron Bull, Dorian, and Solas had found an abandoned chateau which had proven a bit haunted and riddled with undead. They had cleared out the undead and taken care of the restless spirit that had claimed the place as its own. The Iron Bull had been in favour of burning the place to the ground when they were done, but Solas had convinced him there was no need. Now that the spirit was no longer an issue, the chateau could safely be inhabited once more.

“A summer home, perhaps?” Dorian asked, leaning in to give a fox-grin. “It would leave a lasting impression on visitors.”

“Why not?” Leaf chuckled. “I could certainly use a bit of quiet when this is over. I doubt, given it’s history, that there will be much of a bidding war.It could be a lovely gatherign place for my clan.”

“You’re both creeping me out,” Iron Bull grumbled over his pint of ale. “That place was… nngh.”

“This whole place is creepy,” Sera added. “I mean, the trees are graves for dead elves. How many dead elves can haunt one place? No, I mean really! How many?” There was a faint edge of worry in her voice now that the light had faded beyond the hills.

“Thousands. Perhaps hundreds of thousands,” Leaf said, sipping tea from a small wooden bowl. “We’ll never know. Unless…” he grinned. He knew he shouldn’t tease Sera like this. “Cole-”

“If you listen, you can hear it all reaching for the sun.”

“Shut it! No! Not sitting here and listening to Creepy talk to a thousand dead elves! You can just sit on it!” Sera all but fled from her spot near the fire and back to her tent.

“You’re going to pay dearly for that, you know?” Dorian shook his head, tutting as he poured himself another glass of mulled wine.

“Yes, I suppose I shall.” Leaf chuckled.

The others remained up for a while after Sera’s departure. Varric enticed several of the scouts to join him, Blackwall and Vivienne in a game of Wicked Grace. Solas and Cole sat quietly talking amongst themselves. Bull and Dorian remained at the campfire with Scout Harding, sharing drinks and telling tales, their laughter a bright spot in the darkness. Cassandra took first watch.

Leaf sat at the fire for a while, enjoying the sounds of the living.

 

*** *** ***

 

“Wild animals everywhere. Don't these people hunt?” Dorian mused aloud.

“Far as I'm concerned, you can give this place back to the damn elves.” Iron Bull grumbled, cracking off a low lying branch that had hooked into one of his horns. The nose startled a grumble of nugs that, in turn, startled a small herd of the August Ram that had been drinking from the river.

The fourth day of their excursion in the Emerald Graves was not going well. It wasn’t for the usual reasons either. This time, it was his companions that were getting to his patience and trying his nerves.

“We're going to get lost and starve to death, aren't we. A glorious end for the Inquisition.”

Dorian wasn’t helping. Leaf turned and scowled at them both.

“Dorian, you were just complaining about all the wild animals and lack of hunters. Surely a mage as talented as you are can use such abundance to feed yourself.” Leaf said.

Dorian laughed, the sound courtly bright and cheerful, but it did not help lighten Leaf’s mood.

In retrospect, bringing Sera and Solas with him at the same time the previous day had not been one of his better ideas. One outing with them was sufficient. He did not repeat his mistake, instead separating the two into other parties once more and sending them in nearly opposite directions to scout out a few key areas. Solas, Varric and Blackwall. Sera, Vivienne and Cassandra. Himself, Cole, Dorian, and Iron Bull. As balanced and fair as he could make it without putting people together that wanted to kill one another on bad days and gave him a headache on good ones. He loved Vivienne dearly, but their time in _Dirthavaren_ with her, Sera, and Blackwall had him considering running off in the middle of the night to join the Dalish clan camped on the riverbanks. He needed a break from nattering and complaining.

Spread out carefully, the Inquisition members could cover more ground effectively and efficiently in their search for the Red Templar supply lines. Cullen also suspected there was a Red Templar commander for the in the area. That was what Leaf and his group was focusing on finding. At least, they had been. Before the giant spiders. And the giant bears. And then there were the giants.

Cole was his only saving grace. “I like trees,” he smiled. His soft voice gentle and soothing. Easing the ache behind Leaf’s eyes. “Trees don't hurt people.”

Cole seemed content; listening to the songs and soul of the forest. Dorian groused and grumbled, but that was Dorian, and Leaf had gotten pretty good at ignoring the superficial complaints Dorian used to fill the silence. It was the Iron Bull that was getting under his skin, fraying his nerves raw and sore. Leaf couldn’t understand. They had travelling the Hissing Wastes together, seen how fascinated and alert Iron Bull had been when they explored and investigated the dwarven ruins that were on the surface of the sands. The Iron Bull had been curious, involved, and respectful. But here? A place that held so much meaning and history for the Dalish, for elves all over Thedas, Bull seemed … dismissive. It hurt him in a way he didn’t quite understand.

Above them rose a white tower, its crumbling grandeur peeking through the thick leaves of the trees that held it hostage. Vines twirling and tearing at the stone, greedy for more sun. Reaching ever upward. Leaf wondered about it, wondered if there was an entrance hidden somewhere.

“You southerners will just build things anywhere, won't you?”

Now, if only Dorian would stop bitching.

“There was a lady in the tower,” Cole said, looking up, listening to the memories held in the stone. “She cried, but no one heard.”

Leaf turned to look at Cole, who offered no further information. Dorian lost some of the colour to his cheeks. The Iron Bull said nothing, standing stiffly.

“Let’s move on, shall we?” Dorian suggested with a flourishing cheerfulness anyone could see through.

With silent agreement they quickly moved on, leaving the tower its secrets.

Then they stumbled upon the dragon. 

 

*** *** ***

 

Back at camp that night things were lively. Sera and Blackwall were sharing drinks and stories about their day's adventures. Iron Bull was regaling a party of scouts that had just returned from patrol about the dragon battle. Vivienne and Varric were sitting to the side, going over some papers while sharing tea. Even here, Varric made time for paperwork. Leaf had no idea how the dwarf managed.

Leaf felt less fatigue now, but still worn. He went to his tent fairly early, drawing comfort from the nearness of his friends.

The Iron Bull slipped into the tent hours later, after his watch. Settling on his back, one hand reached for Leaf, drawing the small elf close to his side. The touch was questioning, tentative. Leaf allowed it, enjoying the contact, his irritation soothed by time and silence. The feelings he had for Iron Bull were strong, but he was still unsure. Their cultures were so different. Was he understanding or misunderstanding things Iron Bull did? Was he sending the wrong messages to Bull somehow? He liked Iron Bull, desired him, sometimes even dreamed of him. He wondered if the Iron Bull felt the same. Sometimes he wondered if the qunari felt anything for him at all.

That night they slept peacefully with the illusion of safety; dreamless in a dreaming place.

 

*** *** ***

 

Day seven in the Emerald Graves and Leaf was worn raw from the bickering. He had no idea what it was that was causing everyone to go for blood every time they spoke to one another, but it seemed there was to be no peace for any of them. Leaf was tempted to send the lot of them back to Skyhold and finish the expedition with the Inquisition’s scouts.

He was exhausted. 

Sera’s insolence to Solas was one thing, her disinterest in the ruins another. Leaf was one to live and let live. Sera wasn’t interested? Fine. But Solas? Oh no. Solas could not let the matter rest. He lectured and scolded and irritated Sera to no end. If he would Just. Shut. Up!

Sera gave Solas as good as she got, ever more brazen than before to goad him even further. Then she turned her irritation on to Vivienne. Madame de Fer handled each barbed exchange with sweet venom and grace. That she could never seem to get one over on Vivienne irritated Sera even more. The entire camp was at risk of falling into chaos from her pranks. 

Varric seemed to enjoy complaining about the travel as much as Dorian, the two grousing a duet that had the scouts howling around the campfire in tears.

Leaf was tired of it all. 

He had tried to speak with Solas about the ruins, asking the older elf for stories, asking if he had explored the Fade while here, wondered aloud if he had any memories or dreams to share. Solas was accommodating, but distant. Solas was introspective at the best of times, but now? He seemed disinterested in anyone or anything but his own thoughts. He did not appear engaged by Leaf’s questions, so Leaf stopped asking.

He wanted this over. He wanted peace and quiet. He wanted to go back to Skyhold. He wanted to rest.

 

*** *** ***

 

After nine days and nights in the Graves, it was finally too much.

“More trees. Woo.” the Iron Bull grumbled as they ascended a hill to overlook yet another forested valley below. The view was stunning. Gold and green leaves rising to the sun. The light drifting down in columns. Dancing shadows flit over the land beneath them. “Lotta good lumber here going to waste.”

Leaf whirled about; lightning erupted from his skin, the ground a jagged spray of glittering shards beneath his feet. Pure white rage blinded him to his surroundings; his pinprick of vision locked on the Iron Bull.

The party stopped dead in their tracks. Dorian covered his surprise quickly, fingers gently pressing and releasing on his staff, as if self-soothing. A clever, subtle way of recharging his runes, just in case. Cole remained silent; watching. Still. 

The Iron Bull realized he had stepped into a pile of shit a mile wide and three fathoms deep.

Leaf couldn’t stand the sight of him, of any of them, in this moment. He was afraid of what he might do. He was filled with barely controlled energy, his patience broken, nerves salted raw. Magic overflowing and tearing at his core, leaping and searing and eager to be released with purpose; any target, any reason.

The reason and target were the same; the Iron Bull.

He couldn’t. He wanted to hurt; lash out, let go.

Reason was a whisper under the roar of his pain: _You will never forgive yourself_.

“Back to camp,” Leaf ordered, his voice low, hissed between sharp teeth. “All of you. Now.”

 

~~~

 

Dorian was afraid. He’d never seen the Inquisitor so upset before. Magic out of control like that could attract all kinds of trouble, and that was besides giants, Red Templars, and the native wildlife. Everything on the Emerald Graves seemed out to kill them.

“Inquisitor-” Dorian began with caution.

He was gone.

Iron Bull flinched, scanning the area quickly, looking for the elf.

It took Dorian a second or two to trace the path of the residual energies. The Inquisitor was not trying to cover his trail, he was simply trying to put as much distance between them as possible. Dorian had seen the Inquisitor use Fade Stepping before, but never in rapid succession, and certainly never so far away. Dorian wondered just how far the Inquisitor had gotten. Between the hills, valleys, overgrown and rather monstrous vegetation, he couldn’t accurately calculate any distance.

Cole turned his silent gaze to the Northwest; fingers twitching, picking at his nearly translucent skin.

Dorian felt it before he saw it; the magical storm erupting, knowing it was the Inquisitor’s doing. Dorian felt magic burst forward, torn from the Fade, the savage torrent bursting through a dam. A blizzard blackened the skies to the northwest. Lighting leapt up from the ground to stretch across the sky. Dorian wasn’t sure if the shiver that ran through the leaves of the trees was entirely his imagination. He looked over at Cole; up at Iron Bull, who summed everything up nicely.

“Well… shit.”

The trio stood, awkward and slightly afraid. Cole shuffled and skuffed. The Iron Bull might as well have been an iron statue. Dorian’s gaze darted between them; back to the storm. He sighed, shaking his head.

“Let’s head back to camp, shall we?”

“And leave him out there? Like that?!?” Bull gestured to the storm.

“I’ll go.” Cole’s voice was soft. “He’ll need me soon. I can wait.”

 

*** *** ***

 

“You left him?!” Cassandra surged forward, lunging at the Iron Bull, her face steel anger.

“With a demon. Right. We go. Now.” Vivienne was on her feet, staff in place, settling her Hennin onto her brow.

“You think I would leave him if I thought he was in danger?” Iron Bull said quietly.

“He is in danger, my dear. Solas and I felt him break apart. The magic he unleashed was immense. He is bound to be exhausted, vulnerable,” she glared at Dorian. “You should know better than to leave him in such duress.” She stood directly in front of the Tevinter mage, a breath away from his face, glowering her disapproval. “Had we known you weren’t with him, that you had abandoned him, we would have been there by now.”

Dorian puffed up, cross that his judgment had been questioned. “Cole is looking after-”

“Cole is a demon,” Vivienne whirled about, her face scant inches from Dorian. For all you know when we go to find what, if anything, is left of the Inquisitor, the creature will have taken his body for itself. We have to move, quickly-”

“Cole will do no such thing,” Solas interjected. “If anything, he will be keeping the more curious spirits away from the Inquisitor. He will be-”

“I do not want to hear it!” Cassandra said severely. “The Inquisitor should never have been left alone. Sera is the fastest of us; she leads. Blackwall can follow. Vivienne and Solas will be needed, urgently, if anything has… gone wrong,” she turned from Bull to address Vivienne. “The rest of us will follow you. I’ll send the scouts to surround the area and signal if …” she shook her head. “Move. Now!”

 

*** *** ***

 

The valley had been scourged. Where once lush, green vegetation filled the small gap between two rolling hills, there was now barren stone and writhing dirt. One moment frozen, the next struck by lightning. The scorched earth hissed and screamed. The lightning had set some trees ablaze, exploded others. The frozen earth ruptured beneath his feet. The blizzard had flash frozen everything it touched. The lightning had torn everything to pieces. The air was thick with smoke and mist as fire melted frost.

In the midst of the valley, hidden in the grey, knelt a tiny elf. Crumpled to his knees, forehead nearly touching the ground, defeated. Damaged. Drained.

Drained of magic.

Drained of emotion.

He heard nothing. Saw nothing. Sensed nothing.

He was a void. 

Nothing mattered any more.

The calm after the storm.

 

*** *** ***

 

“It could have been so much worse. Fortunately, he was able to maintain at least some degree of control.” Solas shook his head, disappointment staining every word.

“It’s stupid. This is stupid!” Sera sat down next to Iron Bull with a thump. “Wish we were-”

“Heading back to Skyhold, I know,” the Iron Bull kept his eyes on the enameled cup of tea he was handing Blackwall. “The Inquisitor refused. We still have to find that Red Templar commander, and he needs to rest. Vivienne and Cassandra are watching over him. He’s still exhausted, but nothing is getting through the two of them.”

“You have great confidence in the Seeker and Iron Lady,” Blackwall nodded his thanks as he took the cup from the Iron Bull.

“The greatest.”

One by one, with varying degrees of unhappiness and concern, they went to their tents to rest. Cole had not been seen since returning to camp.

The Iron Bull sat near the fire all night, his back resting against a tree, his good eye on the tent that held the Inquisitor, the Seeker, and the Iron Lady.

The camp was quiet that night.

 

*** *** ***

 

He was fairly certain he was dreaming; fade dreaming smelled differently, like shorn grass after the rain.

Cole looked at him with four eyes, all pale blue. The eyes behind his were glowing; his spirit self showing under his skin, pushing forward, fading back.

The space was quiet, the temperature cool, the wintery light piercing through a density of dark green needles. The promise of frost scented the air. A small herd of halla drank from the river in the distance, their thick white coats gleaming silver in the blue light.

Leaf sat on the earth under a thick tree, its trunk sturdy and warm against his back. He rested his elbows against his knees, scratching his toes absently into the dirt, watching the halla.

“You say it’s fine, but it isn’t.”

Cole’s voice echoed; a melody in his mind.

“Hiding hurt so no one can use it against you. But these are not them. They will not do what was once done.”

Images: soft, fleeting, and pale. Sera’s sharp eyes; a smile that was all teeth. Vivienne’s fire and iron spine; a smile as gentle as her fingertips on the back of his hand. Iron Bull’s broad shouldered back standing before him, sheltering him; a sharp bark of laughter across the chaos of the battlefield.

Sensation now.

The warmth of Iron Bull’s body as they lay close together in their tent, almost brave enough to touch. The steel and spice scent of his skin. The barely there touch of fingertips as a mug of ale was passed between then in the tavern. The low rumble of his voice in the night.

The quiver in Leaf’s belly and the shudder up his spine as something in him responded to the Iron Bull in a way he had never answered to anyone.

A shiver ran through the trees, responding to his thoughts.

“Copper on the lips. He wonders.” Cole settles beside him, floating down, spirit limbs flitting here and there, removes his hat and holds it to his chest with solid hands. He nestles his blond heads onto Leaf’s shoulder. “He doesn’t know. He can’t know yet.” 

A dark brown nug appears to snuffle and paw at the loose dirt near their feet. Leaf leans his head down to rest on top of Cole’s. They comfort one another with silence and stillness. The nug curls into a ball beside Leaf’s hip and slumbers. Little snores bring a smile to Leaf’s lips.

“He is worried about you,” Cole begins. “They all are. Until you wake up,” the air shivers. The halla lift their heads and turn as one to the north, splashing across the river, wakes trailing across the river, following them through the land. “He will wait.”

The halla disappear into the cold mist of the forest.

“They want to help. You need to let them.” The fade limbs soothe down Leaf’s wild tangles. The ones that are more real reach out to hold onto his left arm, the one marked by ancient magic not his own. It sparks green at the gentlest of touches.

“I’m not ready,” Leaf whispers. “Not yet.”

“A few moments longer. Voices by the river. Songs in the trees that mean home. You are safe.”

The nug continues to snore. Leaf rests a hand gently on it’s back, sharing warmth between them.

 

*** *** ***

 

“I forget sometimes, how difficult this must be for him,” Cassandra shakes her head. “Everything has changed. He has lost so much and yet, he continues to give. It must be trying.”

She is weary after her night’s vigil, but her focus has not wavered. The Inquisitor lays still and silent on a thin grey pallet, curled on his side, face obscured by the thick brown waves of his ridiculously long hair. Cassandra wonders at the vanity of it. Every few days the elf takes a small pair of shears to the sides of his head and clips the sides short, but the crest of his crown cascades all the way down his back. Waving and curling, drifting in the wind like a feral or fade creature. Sometimes, in the night, his appearance startles her. She wonders if she will ever get used to blue eyes that glow in the night.

“Difficult or not, this is a burden only he can shoulder. It is our duty to help him with that burden as much as possible,” Vivienne answers quietly. “There are things he must do alone, but he needn't be alone while he does them.”

Vivienne’s eyes are sharp despite their long vigil, observing more than Cassandra knows she herself can see. The Enchanter can detect the smallest changes in magic, predict and dispel what her opponents attempt to cast her way. She has not moved from the Inquisitor’s side since they found him kneeling in the middle of the destroyed valley, sheltered by Cole. She will watch over him for all their sakes.

“A Circle offers support when everything else has broken.” Vivienne’s voice is so soft, so gentle, Cassandra can’t tell if Vivienne is talking to her,or to herself. A voice one hears when the speaker is addressing the past. “We need to stand together, or the world will burn.”

Cassandra’s hand rests on the pommel of her sword. She grips her blade firmly, prepared for the worst; hoping for the best.

Cassandra politely ignores Vivienne’s steady grip on the Inquisitor’s hand, a grip the Enchanter had held throughout the night.

 

*** *** ***

 

The nug lifts it’s head, snuffles the air. It stands, stretching its brown, pudgy limbs to and fro. Shakes itself and hops back into the forest.

“You have to wake up now.” In a heartbeat Cole is no longer beside him but standing near the river. Leaf straightens his spine, gathers his legs under him and stands. He moves slowly towards Cole. Not wanting to. Knowing he has to. Cole points to the mirrored surface of the still river. “Fear is taking root.”

Images flash. Things that are and are not yet. Iron Bull and Blackwall charging at Solas; the elf casting a massive stone fist before him. Sparks of yellow and green. Sera spiteful and sneering at Vivienne; fire, lightning and bees fill the air. Shadows of fire. Varric slipping back into the shadows; this isn’t his fight. Cassandra chasing after him because he still has a part to play. Earth erupting, shattering beneath her blow. Smoke, chaos, and darkness.

Leaf frowns. He steps on the water; its surface solid and cold beneath his bare feet. The water shatters like lightning in the night sky and he breaks through. The river slices his skin as he enters. Wincing, he steps in deeper, the jagged edges stinging and burning him. He hisses his pain between his teeth; continues to stalk downwards into the river, the water up to his hips now.

“We are more than our fears.”

His blood stains the river red. He sees more images in the darkened surface. Broken, burning aravells on the Plains. The Hinterlands a sea of ash. Orlais home no to humans longer but host to demons. Skyhold empty once more. The water is at his neck now. A shard of it slices deeply into his chest, peeling skin from bone.

“We still have Hope.”

Leaf vanishes under the red river, a thick tendril of hair remains floating on the surface for but a moment before it is pulled under.

The river glazes over once more, mirrored and still before the whole is taken back to the Fade once more.

 

*** *** ***

 

A week later, in the tavern back at Skyhold, Leaf shares a table with the necromancer and the Iron Bull. The Bull is at the bar, fetching a new round of drinks when Dorian leans in close. “How are you feeling, really?”

Leaf stares at his fingers for a moment, eyes downcast, thoughts circling. He knew this conversation would be a repeating one as each member of the Inquisition- as each of his friends asked about him in their own way. Dorian has respected his need for silence thus far, but he is concerned. Leaf knew he would ask, eventually.

“I am better. I have rested,” he puts on a small smile, hoping it will help.

“That’s good. You had us all worried there.”

Much is left unspoken, but somehow, they both understand.

 

*** *** ***

 

“Hey.”

Leaf looks up from his desk to see the Iron Bull standing at the top of the stairs. It’s been three days since he last saw Iron Bull. He hadn’t heard him enter.

“I’m sorry.”

Leaf stares at him, awkward and unsure. Iron Bull casts a glance out the window before he begins walking slowly across the room to stand in front of Leaf’s desk.

“I saw you were getting agitated in the Graves. Knew everyone was getting on your nerves. I shouldn’t have said what I did. It was just…” Iron Bull paused for a moment. “I didn’t see the graves for the trees. I was seeing was is and you were seeing what was. I disrespected something very important to you.” He lowered his great head, gaze cast low.

Leaf looked everywhere on his desk, fingers smoothing loose papers, touching soft, creamy white envelopes, picking at wax seals, stomach knotted. He tried to order his thoughts. He had thought of so many things he wanted to say to Iron Bull, had played through so many conversations in his mind. Now that the time had come, he was at a loss for words.

“We are so very different,” he all but whispered.

“Yeah. We are,” Iron Bull moved a little closer to the desk. “But that’s not an excuse for me. I made a mistake. It’s a mistake I won’t make again.”

“I just don’t understand,” Leaf stood. “How could you be so polite and respectful of Dwarven ruins and so disrespectful in the Emerald Graves? Wasted Lumber?!” Leaf shuddered at the memory, the words leaving a vile taste on his tongue. “They are monuments to the the elves that fought to save our people. What makes them of any lesser importance than dwarven monuments? Or human ones? Surely Qunari honour their dead. Reducing them to lumber? How dare-” Leaf heard the rising emotion in his voice and forced himself to stop. He choked on his words, on his rage and pain, pushed them back deep into his throat, and strangled them. He sat back down, clenched his hands tight and folded his arms over his belly, eyes staring unseeing at the woodgrain patterns on his desk..

Iron Bull stood quietly.

“I hurt you.”

“Yes.” Leaf’s voice was soft once again. An echo of sadness haunted them.

“I’m sorry.”

“I know.”

“Can we get past this?”

Leaf drew in a deep breath. “Given time.” He did not look up when he spoke.

The Iron Bull nodded before stepping back and walking away. He descended the stairs silently. 

Leaf never even heard him close the door.

 

*** *** ***

 

It had been a pretty shit day, but things worked out in the end. Krem and a group of Chargers had returned from a scouting mission in the Western Approach with tales to tell and drinks to share. Iron Bull listened carefully and laughed loudly, enjoying having them all in once place once again. The reunion spilled from the tavern to the courtyard where some of the Chargers expressed their affection for one another by beating the crap out of each other and calling it training.

Some of the Inquisition soldiers grumbled about the noise and apparent lack of discipline, but those voices were fewer each day. The Chargers proved themselves not through their words, but by their actions.

The Iron Bull was proud of his boys.

As the Chargers began to settle down and drift back into the tavern, Iron Bull spotted the Inquisitor from afar, up on a balcony that overlooked the courtyard. He raised his tankard, unfortunately empty, to let the elf know he had been seen and was welcome. The Inquisitor waved a hand and turned away, disappearing back into his quarters.

The Iron Bull lingered in the courtyard keeping company with hope. He watched as Cassandra and Cullen finished of their sparring-debate in the far corner of the courtyard and headed into the tavern. He saw Sera moving about through the windows of her room, shuffling and poking things away. Sera was always hiding something. Force of habit. Iron Bull had given her a silver coin from Par Vollen and asked her to keep it safe for him. He wondered if she would forget where she hid it. He’d asked her for the coin three times in the passing months. So far, she hadn’t taken more than a few moments to retrieve it for him. She never asked him what the story of the coin was either. She just brought it to him and he paid her with a few drinks. When their conversation died down, he asked her to hide the coin for him again. She took the coin from him so gently, treated it like a precious thing.

Respect and friendship take many shapes, he shook his great horned head, thinking back to his youth. People are just people, no matter what shape they take.

“Good evening, Iron Bull.” Leaf’s voice approached from the far left. Bull turned towards the sound, looking down with a smile.

“Evening boss. Long day? Josephine had you buried under papers again from what Sera had to say.”

“I was hoping Sera would have been able to rescue me after mid-day, but sadly, that was not the case. Leliana was there with Josephine when she arrived and Sera scurried off without much noise at all.” Leaf sighed. “I have no idea why humans have to write down every little thing. Can’t they just talk to one another?”

“Maybe, in small groups. But for word of the Inquisition to spread, humans trust writing more than word of mouth.”

“And yet Leliana spends half her time tracking down rumours on our behalf while Josephine spends a great deal of her time combating rumour against the Inquisition. Where is their dependence on the written word then?” Leaf frowned, rolling his neck and shoulders to ease away lingering tension.

“Eh, gossip. Have to sift it for a grain of truth. Sometimes it’s there; sometimes…” he let himself trail off. He could go on for hours about the oddities of human behaviour, but really, there was no need.

“Would you care for a drink, Bull?” Leaf asked, his eyes on the tavern, rubbing the thumb and forefinger of his right hand together.

This was the first time in weeks the Inquisitor had asked to spend any time with him. Leaf had not been overtly avoiding him, but Josephine was certainly pleased with the amount of administrative work that had been accomplished since their return from the Emerald Graves.

Bull smiled. 

“Yeah, sure.”

A tentative smile played on the edges of the Inquisitor’s lips as they fell in step and crossed the courtyard to the tavern. As they neared the door, Bull could hear the sound of Sera’s laughter from above; his Chargers familiar racket on the main floor. Comfortable sounds.

Bull drifted a little to the right as they neared the tavern door, his arm brushing the Inquisitors. The elf did not acknowledge the touch, but he didn’t move away either. Good sign.

“Drinks are on me.” he said as he pushed open the door, increasing the noise in the Courtyard threefold.

He was rewarded with a smile, a true smile, for the first time in far too long.

 

*** *** ***

 

There wasn’t much left of the elven temple. Everything was grey and broken and smothered in weeds. A broken, weathered statue crumpled at the base of the steps. Another, vine choked and cracked, stretched its great horned neck towards the sunlight that filtered in through the ruined ceiling. Leaf looked up at the rain smoothed face of the massive beast, wondered what it’s unseeing eyes had born witness to over the ages.

“It sleeps, but it’s still here.” Cole said as he trailed his fingers over a small stone reliquary carved in the shape of an owl.

“Please tell me we aren’t pissing something off by being here,” Varric groaned.

“If we’re quiet, it won’t mind.”

“Hey boss, there’s another one of those mosaic pictures over here. Come see.” Bull’s voice called from across the way. “I think it’s that hunter god you were telling me about.”

Leaf carefully picked his way across the rubble strewn floor, minding the loose stones. He found his way quickly to Bull’s side to look at what he had found.

“Andruil. Yes. See? There. Her bow, drawn and ready. And the hawk in flight in the upper left corner of the picture,” Leaf smiled brightly, pointing out the images that held together through time. _”I am Sister of the Moon, Mother of Hares, Lady of the Hunt: Andruil. Remember the Ways of the Hunter and I shall be with you.”_

“What are the ways of the Hunter?” Bull asked, listening carefully to the answer and asking a few more questions that Leaf answered with gentle enthusiasm.

Leaf and Bull explored the rest of the temple side by each, Cole and Varric trailing them at a polite distance, finding broken beauty, lost treasure, and the occasional wandering undead.

Cole was delighted when they found the rabbits.


End file.
